


Peppermint Fairy Tale

by martianapplecrumble



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Christmas, Fluff, M/M, they haven't met before
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:20:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21696820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/martianapplecrumble/pseuds/martianapplecrumble
Summary: The spirit of Christmas is all around, making all people excited and happy. Just, perhaps, not Crowley. On Christmas, he feels even more lonely than usual, but maybe someone will help him with that?
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 62





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "Peppermint Fairy Tale" is actually a name of a very depressing Russian book about teenagers. When I've heard what it's about, I've decided that no, this cannot be Peppermint fairy tale. A Peppermint fairy tale is supposed to be about winter and Christmas, and it's supposed to be sweet and maybe just a tiny bit sad, you know, for the atmosphere.  
> I've wanted to write this since October (I think), and I hope I will finish it x))  
> I hope you enjoy this little work :)

December is truly a wonderful time. It feels like there is a special magic in the air, as if some angels circle above the city, blessing everything they see and putting love and joy into people's hearts. Every single house is decorated, the huge Christmas Tree at the city square shines gloriously with all its lights, and shops are full of Christmas food and goods. The smell of gingerbread, pines and frost is always present, wherever you go, and it is even in your own house, even if you have none of these three things there. Perhaps at home there is also a scent of burning firewood, if you, of course, own a fireplace. The usual bitterness of daily routine is forgotten, and every single person is in some kind of awe and excitement, like expecting a miracle to happen any minute.

Well, to tell the truth, not every single person.

***

The alarm rang at 7AM sharp, and Crowley groaned, burying his face into his pillow. He was never happy to wake up at such a time, but he had a job, and the job required him to wake at 7AM whether he wanted it or not. He could, of course, wake up later, but then he would be late, and that would mean getting told off by his boss and possibly having his wage cut.

Crowley made an effort and turned off the alarm. He sat up on the bed, his bare feet touching the cold floor. Crowley made a pained face; he was never fond of cold either. Why couldn't it just be summer already?

Crowley went to the kitchen, made himself a coffee (black, no sugar, unpleasantly bitter but helpful when it came to waking up) and turned the radio on. Of course it was a mistake, as a very familiar song started playing.

" _I just want you for my own_  
 _More than you could ever know_  
 _Make my wish come true_  
 _All I want for Christmas is..._ "

Crowley cursed and turned the radio off. That was one of the advantages of living alone: he could curse as much and as loudly as he wanted. Especially his plants, his only company in his lonely flat.

Why was everyone so obsessed about Christmas?

He pondered over this while he dressed up for work, and while he walked to the office building, hands buried deep in the pockets of his coal black winter coat. Christmas was just another day of the year, the only good side of it being getting a couple days off at work and sleeping in and watching TV series all day. Maybe it was so exciting for those who would get gifts, or have a huge delicious dinner with their family, or cuddle by the fireplace with their loved one. Crowley, however, haven't got any of those for many years. Christmas, for him, was that time when everyone felt belonged and happy, and he did not.

He looked bitterly at all the decorations on the walls and in the windows, at the happy faces of children, at the small Christmas trees standing by some of the doors.  
And devil's luck, they opened a Christmas market right on the street he needed to go on to get to work.

Small wooden stalls, each with a cheerful seller and some kind of Christmas stuff in them. Christmas tree decorations, handmade wreaths, hot food and drinks, candles, gingerbread biscuits... name anything related to Christmas, it was there. Even the songs; they played softly from small audio systems, causing Crowley to cringe.  
He showed his hands even deeper in his pockets and passed the stalls with his head low, feeling and looking gloomier than ever. He should look up another route on the map, he won't be able to go through this two times a day for the next two weeks.

"Hey!"

Crowley didn't flinch at first - it was probably for someone else, there were many people around, - but the voice repeated:

"Please, wait a moment!"

Crowley turned his head and saw a bright, cheerful man inside one of the stalls. White curls on his head reminded of snow, but he didn't seem old, no older than Crowley at least. He was chubby and had plump rosy cheeks, and he wore a thick Christmas turtleneck, and his lips were spread in a broad, happy smile that would make anyone feel more light-hearted and smile back. But not Crowley. Not in this mood and this man reminding him very much of a Christmas angel.

"Yes?" Crowley asked, maybe sounding more rude than he intended.

"Just a moment, please, I will be right back," the man said, turning around and fussing with a large pot.

Crowley tapped his foot impatiently. He didn't want to stay in this place longer than absolutely necessary.

The man poured something into a cup from a little tap on the side of the pot, closed it with a cap, and handed it to Crowley.

"Here," he smiled warmly as Crowley eyed the steaming cup suspiciously. "I don't know what happened to you, dear, but no one should feel gloomy on Christmas. I hope this will cheer you up."

"Is this a way to make me pay money?" Crowley grumbled as he took the cup.

"No, no, it's for free! Hope you enjoy it."

Crowley didn't feel less bitter. In fact, the man's cheerfulness seemed to irritate him even more.

"You know, my mood is none of your business. Goodbye," he snapped and walked off, even though he did get a glimse of hurt that crossed the plump man's face.

***

As Crowley walked fast, a hot cup of drink in his hands, he felt his irritation go away a little. Maybe he shouldn't have been so cross with the man; after all, he just wanted to help. Crowley felt guilt pulling slightly on his chest.

He took a small sip of his drink. It was hot, and sweet, and had a peppermint taste to it. Peppermint tea. Even though Crowley didn't love tea that much, it made him feel a little warm inside, and maybe not just from the drink.


	2. Chapter 2

It was just a regular work day. Crowley's boss wasn't fond of Christmas herself, it seemed: there weren't any wreaths, or tinsel, or Christmas lights, or any stupid banners, or any other Christmas decorations in the office. Some of the workers decorated their own desks a little, and someone hung mistletoe in the doorway as a joke.

Crowley turned his computer on and tried to focus on his work. Occasionally he was interrupted by the thoughts about the man at the stall. By the hour, Crowley felt more and more guilty for being rude to him. Perhaps he should apologise.

He raised his head sharply as he heard loud laugher. It turned out that two of his co-workers, Hastur and Ligur, bumped into each other in the doorway. And of course there was the mistletoe obligation, and they were making a show of not wanting to do it. Crowley snorted quietly and looked back to the screen.

He wondered what it was like to kiss someone under the mistletoe. Or to kiss someone at all. He had never kissed anyone before (unlike Hastur and Ligur. Everyone knew they were putting on a show just for laughs; they were, in fact, married).

Crowley prevented a sigh from escaping his lips, shook his head a little and started typing.

***  
The office clock ticked the hours away, and soon it was time to go home. Crowley wondered what he should do. Perhaps he could take the route through the market again and apologise to the man at the drinks stall?

He doubted his choice as he stepped outside, the evening frost biting at his cheeks. Maybe he shouldn't bother, he is, after all, just another client. A rude one, but still.

But then again, not every person hands out drinks for free. It was a very kind gesture, and Crowley didn't want to act like an asshole to someone who showed him kindness. He walked to the market, feeling more confident.

The stalls all looked alike, and Crowley couldn't remember anything significant about its appearance. He went through the market, looking at every stall, hoping to find something related to Christmas drink.

And finally, he found the right one.

The chubby man with snowy-white curls was still there, adding spices to one of the large pots.

Crowley cleared his throat.

"Um," he said. "Excuse me?"

The man turned sharply, his cheerful smile dropping a little when he saw Crowley. "Good evening, would you like anything?" he asked, his tone not exactly warm.

"Yes, I would like..." Crowley took a deep breath of cold air, "to apologise. For, you know. The morning. It was very kind of you to give me a free drink."

The stiffness in the man's posture seemed to be gone with the words, and he smiled kindly. For some reason, this smile made Crowley feel a little warm inside. Something he's never felt before.

It crossed his mind that the man was very cute.

"No worries, dear, everyone has their bad days," the man said. "I just hoped to bright yours up a little."

Crowley couldn't help but smile back a little.

"You did."

Something very happy sparkled in the man's eyes.

"Oh, that's just wonderful then! Is there anything else you would like?"

Crowley studied the small menu.

"Mulled wine, please."

"Just a moment, dear!" the man gave Crowley another angelic smile of his and went to his pots. Crowley couldn't help but look at him as he worked. He had chubby fingers which looked like they could do very skillful things, his curls looked extremely soft, and his skin was a beautiful pink color, which got more rosy at the cheeks and fingertips.

"There you go," he smiled, giving Crowley his steaming cup. "No, no need to pay! Just enjoy your evening."

As the man flatly refused to take the money, Crowley had another plan. He took a whole handful of change, about three times the price of the drink, and put it into the tips jar as the man looked at him with wide eyes.

"You too," Crowley smirked and left before the seller could even say anything.

Sipping his perfectly made mulled wine, Crowley, for the first time this Christmas season, felt happy.

He couldn't stop thinking about the angelic man in a cream turtleneck for the rest of the night.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, the alarm rang at 7AM sharp, just as usual. What wasn't usual, however, was that no exhausted groan followed after. For some reason, Crowley didn't feel as bitter as he usually did on winter mornings. In fact, he got up quickly, because if he hurries up, he can get a cup of Christmas drink in addition to his morning coffee. The point, of course, wasn't the drink itself. Something inside Crowley's chest convinced him that his day would become significantly better if he had a quick chat with the soft hot drinks seller before he went to work.

The radio, of course, was playing something seasonal.

_"Have yourself a merry little Christmas_   
_Let your heart be light_   
_Next year all our troubles will be out of sight_   
_Have yourself a merry little Christmas_   
_Make the yuletide gay_   
_Next year all our troubles will be miles away..."_

If the radio were alive, it would fall off the counter in shock as Crowley, absent-mindedly, began to hum along.

***  
Crowley walked through the market, perhaps not feeling as annoyed as usual at the amount of Christmas spirit around. Perhaps. He still wished all of this was somewhere far away, but maybe not as intensively.

And here is the stall.

"Morning," Crowley said, smirking a little as the chubby seller's cheeks went bright pink. Crowley's heart may have sped up a little, but he tried to chase the feeling away.

"Um... G-good morning, dear," the man smiled warmly and perhaps in a bit flustered way. "What can I make for you today?"

Boy, was he cute.

"Something with cranberry, perhaps?"

"Yes, yes, sure."

Crowley watched him work, just like yesterday, and he saw the way he nervously tapped his fingers on the counter.

"What's your name?" Crowley asked before he could stop himself.

The man probably didn't expect that, flushing even brighter than before, but answered regardless.

"Aziraphale. And yours?"

Aziraphale. Indeed an angelic name.

"Crowley."

Aziraphale smiled at him.

"You work nearby, don't you?" he asked, pouring a crimson-colored drink into a paper cup. "I mean... you pass this place every day."

"I do," Crowley nodded. "See that gloomy office building? That's where."

Aziraphale gave him the cup. "Hopefully this cranberry tea will make the day a little less gloomy for you. NO. No need to pay!! You paid for at least five yesterday!!" he protested desperately as Crowley reached into his pocket for money.

"I wanted to," Crowley smirked, putting some more change into the tips jar.

"No! I will not accept that!" Aziraphale refused, already reaching for the jar to return the coins to Crowley. Why was he so nice to him anyway, Crowley thought. He was sure Aziraphale didn't give drinks for free to just anyone.

Something clicked in his head.

"Then can I repay in some other way?" Crowley gave Aziraphale such a smug grin that his plump cheeks became almost the colour of cranberry.

Crowley wasn't sure why he said that. He was absolutely not the type to flirt, but something about Aziraphale was like a light to a butterfly for him. He coudn't get rid of the warm feeling in his chest since yesterday.

Aziraphale tugged at the collar of his turtleneck, flustered.

"We could... we could go for a walk, perhaps? Tonight after work," he managed, in a shy voice. "It's Christmas, after all. The streets look spectacular."

In any other case Crowley would reject such suggestion with rage boiling inside him and maybe even spilling outside. But now, for some reason, it made him feel... excited? Maybe a little dreamy. No. Not dreamy. No way.

"Great. See you tonight then?" Crowley gave Aziraphale a little wink, surprising himself even more.

"Yes. Tonight," Aziraphale smiled, maybe a bit too bright, sending off some kind of sparkles in Crowley's chest.

***  
As has already been stated a number of times, Crowley despiced Christmas decorations. All of them. However, as he watched Aziraphale being so delighted by them, excited to no end, pointing to this and that wreath or heavily decorated Christmas tree or strings of bright lights, it was impossible not to share the feeling with him just a little. Aziraphale seemed to radiate some kind of happiness which even Crowley couldn't help but feel.

And Crowley didn't even try to deny that the way the lights danced in Aziraphale's eyes was beautiful.

It was beautiful. Aziraphale was beautiful. He was wearing a camel-hair overcoat, a warm tartan scarf and a matching hat. A mischievous blond curl stuck out from under the hat, and Crowley had to fight the urge to put it back into place.

Gee, what was happening to him?

They reached the city square, talking to each other cheerfully. Crowley couldn't remember the last time he felt that much at ease. Even the stress at work wasn't nagging his mind. All that seemed to exist was Aziraphale, and some kind of atmosphere full of joy and excited, tingly feelings. This atmosphere was never able to reach Crowley, but now he started to feel it a little, letting himself bask in the pleasant emotions.

"Dear, look, isn't it hot cocoa? Oh, and they sell gingerbread biscuits too!" Aziraphale exclaimed. Crowley looked around and saw the stall Aziraphale was talking about. Five minutes later, the latter was holding a large cup of cocoa and a large biscuit which looked like an angel, flustered to no end.

"Oh dear, there was really no need..."

"I wanted to," Crowley shrugged, grinning a little and looking away. Why was Aziraphale calling him "dear" anyway? And why, even though it seemed kind of strange at first, it now made his heart skip a beat?

"An angel?" Aziraphale asked, looking at his still warm cookie.

"Yeah, reminded me of you," Crowley said, only then realising _what_ he said.

Oh no, that's probably really too fast.

But Aziraphale only chuckled shyly and lowered his gaze.

"Because of the hair?" he desided to ask, looking back at half-flirty, half-scared Crowley.

"Not just the hair," Crowley smirked, causing Aziraphale to chuckle again, his whole face red.

Damn it, his laugh was absolutely adorable.

***

It was getting very late, and in spite of the fact neither of them wanted to leave, they both had to go home. Luckily, they had to go some of the way back together.

"And here I need to turn right," Aziraphale said as they reached the end of the street.

"And I have to go left," Crowley sighed.

Aziraphale looked sad for a moment, but then smiled.

"Thank you, Crowley, I had such a lovely time!"

"Me too, angel," Crowley smiled back. Yes, he started calling him angel, both because it was a perfect nickname for Aziraphale and Aziraphale himself seemed to like it very much, a flustered smile crossing his face every time Crowley said the word. "Would love to do it again."

"How about tomorrow?" Aziraphale asked.

"Sounds good enough."

They were about to part when Aziraphale looked from Crowley's face to somewhere above. Confused, Crowley raised his head and immediately saw what Aziraphale meant.  
Mistletoe, hanging on the arch they were standing it.

Crowley's heart started beating faster, almost jumping out of his chest. So, what was he supposed to do now? He looked back at Aziraphale, who was blushing hard and stroking his hands nervously, and then and his plump, pink, lips.

They looked so... sweet.

Before Crowley could do anything else, Aziraphale, having mastered the courage, cupped his cheeks and pressed a kiss to his lips.

Crowley felt like everything around him stopped existing. All he could feel was the sweet drumming of his heart, and the soft lips on his own. Once he was able to move, he hugged Aziraphale by the waist, slowly returning the kiss.

It was slow, and gentle, and it made Crowley's head spin and his heart sing, the warm feeling in his chest ever-present. So that's what kissing felt like. At least, kissing Aziraphale, and Crowley decided that it was one of the best things in the world.

***  
Perhaps, Christmas season wasn't as terrible as Crowley thought it was.

This Christmas, for the first time in a long while, he received a gift. And not just a gift, but a gift from life itself: it gave him Aziraphale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it! Thank you for reading this story, I hoped you enjoyed it. Have a very merry Christmas, and happy holidays in general :)


End file.
